Gay is Not a Synonym for Shitty
by SkyChasingDreamer
Summary: Going on a vacation with his friends for over a week should be fun, that's what Jean used to think before he uncovered a detail about himself that turns his vacation into turmoil. Rating will change. Jean/Eren and Eren/Jean.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Gay is Not a Synonym for Shitty

**Pairing**: Eren/Jean and Jean/Eren

**Rating**: T to NC17

**For:** Jo and Silvia /sends you so much love

**Disclaimer**: No

**Gay is Not a Synonym for Shitty**

Jean dashes around his room, clumsily trying to pack all the things he needs for the trip. He'd been looking forward to going to an amusement park for an entire week when he signed up two months ago, but now... oh, god, he's terrified. Something went wrong somewhere, the stars have aligned against him or some shit, he's _fucked_. And not even fucked in the fun sense, fucked as in: screwed over, ruined, never coming back alive, and it's too late to back out. The trip is already paid for, the bus is waiting, the reservations at the hotel have been made, he's trapped.

"Fuck!" Jean yells and scrambles into his bathroom to get his toothbrush.

He goes back out and fits it into the small zipper back inside his suitcase, then cusses again when he has to turn right back around to get his toothpaste. He's a mess, more so than usual, and it sucks because a trip to an amusement park should be something right up his alley. Well, it is, and he _had _been looking forward to it, so much so that he was one of the first to sign up. The park is near a beach and he hasn't ever gotten the chance to see the ocean, plus, he loves roller coasters, this is everything he could possibly ask for in a spring break vacation.

He tells himself he's being dramatic, that he's making a mountain out of an ant hill about the whole thing, but he can only lie to himself so much before the truth starts seeping through the cracks in his malleable armor. Going to his closet, he grabs some shirts, mostly his favorites with a few random ones thrown in, he has no idea what exactly the protocol for the attire is. He folds those – otherwise known as balling them up to make them fit – and shoves those into his suitcase. It's just a small thing, small enough to be a carry on in an airplane and fit in the overhead compartment.

He has a second bag on his bed, an actual bag he can sling over his shoulder, and in it he has the things he knows he'll want to keep him occupied on the bus ride. In it already he has his iPod and phone, chargers for both, a notebook, and there's plenty of room for snacks. He has every intention of raiding the pantry and filling it up before he goes. He can't decide if that's all he'll need or if he should toss some more things in there just in case. It's close to a fifteen hour ride, so the plan is to leave today, which is a Friday, travel through the night, arrive late Saturday afternoon, then go to the park on Sunday.

It's a week long trip and they're not going to the park everyday. The area they're staying in has a huge outdoor shopping center and Jean knows he'll definitely want to go to the beach, even spend a whole day there. The thought makes him cuss again as he digs through his closet to pull out his swimsuit, he'd feel like a dumbass if he left it behind. He throws that into his suitcase and counts on his fingers how many nights they're going to be staying at the Inn. Total, it'll be six nights since they're staying through Friday and they'll spend Saturday on the road, then get back sometime on Sunday.

From an outside perspective it looks like it'll be an awesome trip and in all likelihood, it will be. But from Jean's inside perspective, his skin has turned cold and clammy and the nervous knot in his stomach keeps him flouncing around his room and double checking he has useless items like pens for his notebook and matching socks. He's taking both flip-flops and tennis shoes, the flip-flops are packed and he's going to wear the shoes on the bus.

Returning to his bathroom for perhaps the fifth time in a row – four the those times he'd come out with nothing because he'd forgotten what he'd gone in there for – and grabs his shampoo. The Inn with have shampoo, but he wants his own with him, and while he's there, he snags his styling gel, too. He puts both in a zip-lock bag, he'd learned the hard way what happens when a shampoo bottle gets squished and leaks out on everything, and slips them along the side. It's only an afterthought that he returns once more to his bathroom and gets his favorite bottle of cologne, which he puts in the zip-lock as well. He doesn't know if he'll need it, but in his case, it's better to have too much than too little.

Looking over the suitcase, he mentally lists out the things he has, hoping doing so will remind him of something else he'll need. He has his pajamas, his favored hoodie is to the side ready to be put on, he has shirts, shorts, his swimsuit, shampoo, cologne, jeans, boxers, toothbrush, toothpaste... does he need anything else? Biting his lip, he wanders over to his closet and pulls out his nicest button up shirt. He barely wears the thing, but... he might want it?

Shaking his head, he carries it over to the bed and lays it down to attempt to fold it. It's his nicest shirts, therefore, it deserves to be folded nicely to ward off wrinkles or something. It takes him four times fucking it up before he loses his patience and just throws it in on top of everything else. Checking the clock right after is a terrible idea, he has only ten minutes before he needs to get going, just _ten_, that's it. Just like that, his heart rate has picked up and he almost feels like he's going to vomit the way his stomach flips over and churns.

Only three weeks ago, everything had been so much simpler. He hadn't been such a wreck then, and he definitely hadn't been dreading this trip. He'd been counting down the days and imagining the different rides, looking forward to all the fun he'd have with the friends who are going. That last one remains true, but he's in such turmoil it's hard for him to look at the bright side of things like that.

"Wallet!" he yells, remembering suddenly that that's a thing he'll be needing.

He hunts around his room for it and deflates a few minutes later when he finds it already stuffed in the back pocket of the jeans he's wearing. He checks to make sure all his cash is in there and that he has his ID and debit card. He has some pictures tucked away in the folds, too, but he doesn't look at those right now. All accounted for, he puts it back into his pocket and goes to his mirror to assess himself.

Right away, he frowns, he looks tired. It's no secret to himself as to why, but it still bothers him that it's so obvious. The circles under his eyes aren't _too _big though and he consoles himself with that. His hair he runs a hand through to make it look more fluffed up instead of smooshed down and he checks out his outfit while he's there. It'd taken him a long time to decide on this where up until three weeks ago he never used to care. He has on jeans and a black short sleeved tee that says _put on your war paint _in big curvy red letters on the front.

He has a lot of shirts with different sayings on either the front or back from his favorite bands or just words and styles that struck his fancy. Some of them he actually likes and others are just gags, like the one buried deep in his closet that says_ banana lover_ on the front and has a huge banana on the back courtesy of his sixteenth birthday. He likes the shirt he's wearing though, it fits him well, though, it's starting to get a little worn. There's a small tear on the hem on the right side and he wants to get it mended. He'd do it himself, but he doesn't know how to sew and doesn't trust himself with a tiny needle, he'd poke himself for sure. Or worse, ruin his shirt.

Making a slow turn, he looks over his shoulder and checks himself out from behind. The jeans fit nicely, he thinks, and they're comfortable. He'd almost put on sweatpants – oh! Sweatpants! He spins around, looking for his sweatpants, he wants to pack those! They're great for lounging around in and the inside of them is really soft, but where did he put them? They'd been in his hands earlier and he refuses to leave without them! He walks around and gets on his knees to look under his bed, finding only a lonely dust bunny huddled in the far corner by the way. There's a knock on his door and he jolts so hard in surprise he trips and runs into the nightstand, nearly knocking over the lamp on top. "Y-yeah?"

"Are you ready yet?"

"Be down in a minute!"

"Hurry up or you'll be late!"

"Kay!"

He hears his mom retreat and he... lets go of the lamp, he doesn't know why he's still holding onto it. Getting up off the floor, he checks the folds of his bed and finds his sweatpants tangled in the covers. He lets out a sigh and pushes them into the suitcase, sure now that he has all the essentials. Zipping up, he takes the suitcase off the bed and decides to toss his wallet into his bag. He zips that up as well and slings it over his shoulder, ready as he'll ever be. He looks around his room one last time, it's small, so it's pretty easy to tell if he missed something. He has his bed next to the wall, a nightstand beside it, his closet, a desk, and then the bathroom across from his bed. There's a window looking out into the backyard and he has made a lifetime out of sneaking out of it in the middle of night.

Or... someone sneaking in.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he groans and decides now is a good time to leave. He still gives his room one last glance, for no other reason than just because, before heading out.

"Ready!" Jean calls as he descends the stairs and his mom, wearing a nice pale sundress, comes out of the kitchen.

"Do you have everything?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! You do this every time I..." He drops everything at the base of the stairs and dashes back up, taking the steps two at a time. Going into his room, he puts on his hoodie, and runs down the stairs to pick his stuff up again. "Everything. Yes, I have everything."

She squints at him. "You're sure?"

"Now I'm sure, yeah."

"Then get in the car and we'll go."

"I can drive, if you want?"

"No, no, it's easier if I do."

He nods and goes out the front door to the driveway where her small four-door is parked. His car is parked out in the street and he would just drive himself, but he doesn't want his baby to sit neglected for over a week in some parking lot. He puts his stuff in the back and even though it's warm out, he's glad he has his hoodie on. He knows he'll be comfortable on the with it and that's another reason why he chose the jeans he's wearing over the sweatpants. Some jeans are too tight and fit him wrong, but not these, he likes this pair and he'll be able to sleep in them if he wants.

His mom comes outside and he opens the passenger door about ready to get in when he cusses under his breath. Throwing the back door open again, he grabs his bag and runs back inside the house without glancing at his mom. He trips over himself on the way to the kitchen and quickly throws whatever snacks he can get his hands on into his bag, filling it up until it's round and engorged. Only when he's satisfied does he get a drink from the fridge and return to the car to find his mom already has the engine running. He puts his bag back with his suitcase and gets in, putting his seatbelt on in silence.

"Do you have everything?"

He ducks his head, he can _feel _her staring at him. "Yeah, I'm good to go."

She hums and starts back up, but stops at the end of the driveway, warning, "Last chance."

"It's fine! I'm good! All set!"

She hums again, that noncommittal noise that says, '_I don't believe you, but if you've forgotten something it's your own damn fault._' She drives through the neighborhood – after he taps a finger against the glass in farewell as they pass his car – and it really is a nice day. There's barely any clouds in the sky, just ones really high up that are thin and wispy, and the grass is green since the bite of winter has been gone for at least a month. Flowers are blooming and his favorite yards on the ones that clearly have dogs because there's little spots of grass that are growing a lot faster and greener than the rest since the dog shit there. It's quiet, so he reaches for the radio knob to get some music going only to get his hand slapped away with enough zip to make him yelp.

"You quit that! I won't get to see my boy for over a week, so you're going to talk to me on the way!"

Jean refrains from rolling his eyes and hitting his head against the seat. Why do parents insist on this? She's even worse when he tries to put his headphones in because suddenly they need to talk like they actually have things to talk about. He's still rubbing his hand and grumbling about it, her reflexes are deadly – the woman is a terror with a fly swatter.

"What do you wanna talk about?"

"Well, are you excited?"

Jean rests an arm on the door and drums his fingers. "About?"

She sighs. "Where are we going, Jean?"

The sad part is that he actually has to think about it before answering, "Oh! Yeah, I'm excited. Looking forward to seeing the ocean."

"Hard to believe you'll be going off to college next year, this will be your last spring break with this class." She makes a show of sniffling. "My baby boy is growing up!"

"Don't get sentimental on me yet, I'm not even halfway through the school year!"

They chat during the ride and she threatens him into promising he'll call at least once every couple days and let her know when he gets there so she knows he made it safe. It's a short ride to where the bus is and the closer they get, the more anxious Jean becomes. His fingers drum faster and more frequently and he adjusts his hoodie too many times, always wrapping it tighter around himself like a security blanket. If his mom picks up on his nervousness, she doesn't show it or say anything, which is good because he _really_ doesn't want to draw attention to it. Or talk about it. Or even acknowledge that it's there.

"Oh, before I forget," she pulls some money out of her purse while they're at a stoplight, "here, just in case."

"It's okay, I have money from doing all that landscaping this month and from shoveling snow for the neighbors."

"I know, but I'd feel better if you'd take it."

He knows better than to argue, she'll eventually get her way regardless, so he reluctantly takes it just as the light turns green. He lifts his hips and shoves the bills in his pocket, hoping he doesn't forget it's there like he has a tendency to do with a multitude of things. Barely a minute later and they're pulling into the parking lot where people are boarding the bus. Right away he spots Armin and Annie, their blond hair easy to pick out in a crowd, especially one as small as this. He thinks there's maybe thirty people going, give or take, and it's only open to Seniors.

"I won't stay, so give me a hug." He's not thrilled about that, but gives her an awkward sideways hug nonetheless. "Have fun and be safe."

"I will," he promises, then gets out and grabs his stuff.

He keeps the smile on his face as he waves her off, but the second she's gone, it drops just like his stomach does. He's here, it's time, there's no escape. Taking a few deep breaths, he turns toward the bus and already it feels like his mouth has gone dry. It sucks, it sucks so fucking much, he wants more than anything to be excited about this and just enjoy himself, have fun like everyone else, but that's not the way it is for him anymore. Well, okay, of course he'll have fun, but there will always be his deep dark secret casting a shadow over it.

He protects this secret of his like it's his Pandora's box or like... like that creepy gollum thing from The Lord of the Rings. He wishes he could keep it a secret from himself, but no such luck, he's all too aware of the oppressing weight on his shoulders. Jean even wishes he could say it has gotten easier over the last three weeks, but it hasn't and he can't lie to himself. He has been driving himself crazy with it, losing sleep, having trouble eating, his whole life has changed because of this one stupid revelation.

Connie says hi to him when he gets to the bus to put his stuff in the compartment underneath and he gives a smile in return. He's not quite in the mood for conversation, his gut feels lower than dirt and there's this sense of dread that only gets stronger. Is it too late to fake a fatal illness? Like, if he just keels over and claims stomach pains, that wouldn't be a total lie since his stomach _does_ hurt. He puts his suitcase among the other bags and snorts to himself at how ridiculous he's being about the whole thing. It won't be that bad! Everything is going to be fine.

"Oi, Kirschtein!" The voice startles the everliving shit out of him and he bonks his head on the door, his heart lurching in his chest. He's rubbing the stinging spot on the back of his head when he looks up and there's Eren staring down at him through the open window with a grimace. "Sorry! You okay? Didn't mean to startle ya."

"I'm fine." He feels like a goddamn deer in headlights. "You get us a good seat?"

"Yup! Obviously I get the window, hurry your ass up!"

Jean grabs his bag and puts it over his shoulder before heading for the bus door. His heart is still pounding and it's so shitty that he can feel some heat in his cheeks. Does he always have to make a fool of himself like that? Hitting his head on a goddamn side door... _really_? Rolling his eyes at himself, he boards and a genuine smile coming to his face seeing so many of his friends. Sasha is sleeping, her mouth hanging open and her head is on her potato shaped pillow propped up against the window. Bert and Reiner are sitting together and Jean playfully punches Reiner's shoulder as he passes only to get the back of his thigh smacked in return.

But then he looks up and there's Eren with an empty seat next to him, the one he'd saved for Jean, and his stomach is in knots all over again. It's not a big deal, Eren saving the seat, they're best friends, that kind of stuff is normal.

Eren looks up and grins. "What the hell took you so long? I was about to text you and make sure you didn't get lost."

Jean tosses his bag at the foot of his seat and plops down. "I kept forgetting stuff! Almost left the snacks behind."

"Ah, the important stuff. I brought a bunch too and look," he points to the TV two rows ahead, "perfect angle for your viewing pleasure. Don't have to squint, don't have to crane your neck, did I do good or did I do good?"

"Ya did good, loser."

Eren's shoulder bumps into his. "I just didn't wanna hear you complaining the whole way about not being able to see. You can get awfully annoying, did you know?"

"You've told me once or twice and I still don't believe you."

Eren laughs and points to Jean's bag. "Lemme see what you brought."

Jean hesitates just a moment, suddenly nervous, but decides to ignore it in favor of handing it over. Eren begins rifling through it for something to eat and Jean looks at anything and everything besides his friend. His mouth still feels dry and his heart is in his throat, he even has to refrain from dabbing his brow to see if there's a sweat breaking out. His palms are clammy and cold while the rest of him feels far too hot and he's all too aware of every movement Eren makes.

This is going to be the longest bus ride ever, he's sure of it. It's going to be torture, he's going to struggle, and no one can or will know it. Who's he sharing a room with at the Inn? His best friend, of course. Who's he going to be with every waking moment during this trip? Eren, naturally.

And who does Jean have a crush the size of the fucking universe on?

Eren goddamn Jaeger.

Jean nearly groans right then and there, he doesn't know how the hell he's going to survive.

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

An hour into the ride and Jean is sweating bullets.

Seriously, it's so gross that people have been asking if he's feeling okay and Eren keeps shooting him looks, which, inevitably, only makes it worse. He waves people off saying that he's just hot, but then they tell him to take off his hoodie and he refuses. It's more a security thing in that the hoodie makes him feel comfortable and, in a way, safe, and he knows how ridiculous that sounds. But there's also the little detail that if he takes it off, it's very likely Eren or someone will notice how he'll get goosebumps every time Eren gets closer to him or leans against him.

Eren has been chatting up a storm with everyone nearby, catching up with them and being the general socialite he always is. Armin and Mikasa are in the seats across the aisle with Mikasa by the window and Eren has been chatting them up. Jean has been talking to them too since they're all good friends, but right now he has been fine just listening and making his own comments when he wants to. It's easier on him when there's more people in the conversation and since he's comfortable with Armin and Mikasa, he has a better time relaxing.

So, the hour has gone by pretty fast and the bus is loud with everyone trying to talk to everyone else. Eren has eaten nearly a whole bag of Cheetos and it's entirely too distracting when he licks the orange powder off his fingers. Jean can't help but squirm when he does it and that's when people give him _looks_ and ask if he's okay. It's not like he can say it makes him uncomfortable either seeing Eren lick his fingers or hearing him when Jean looks away to try and focus on something else.

There's a sweat on his brow, it's the nerves, and he has never been one for getting hot flashes. It's drawing attention to him and he really wishes it wouldn't. It's okay at the moment because Eren has put what's left of the Cheetos away and the four of them are just talking. Armin has a book in his lap, but he hasn't been reading it, only touching the cover and the spine while they talk about generic things like school. Safe topics, Jean thinks.

"Hey, you're hot."

Jean jolts in place and whips his head around to stare at Eren. "W-what?"

Eren points to his own forehead. "Sweat. You sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah." His heart is thundering. "It's just hot in here."

"Wanna switch me seats? You can open the window since air vents are doing their job."

"You don't mind?"

"Nah, switch me!"

Eren half-stands and does the worst thing he can possibly do, which is wriggle passed Jean out into the aisle. He's basically in Jean's lap for a moment and that's just not fair or kind or helpful! Jean holds his breath and his hands clasp tight to each other in his lap as he waits. The second Eren is by him, he's scooching over into the window seat and he shouldn't like the fact that the seat is warm. In school, he's put off when he sits in his next class and the seat is still warm from the person before him, but make Eren the person who warmed the seat and he likes it.

God, he's fucked up.

Eren sits down and he's talking to Armin about something, not that Jean can pay attention at the moment. He opens the window a crack, pushing it outward about an inch, and it feels so damn good. The wind blasts into his face and he can't hear anything around him and it turns the sweat on his brow nice and cool. He wipes it away with the back of his hand when it makes him shiver and just breathing fresh air makes him feel better. Less nervous, less on edge, and when he closes his eyes, everything is fine for the time.

Jean's mind begins to wander and he zones out completely as the world outside the window zips past in a blur. He can't pity himself, he feels lucky to be Eren's friend, the rest is just...

He has to deal with it.

There's a lot of people who like Eren, though Jean has never heard about another guy hitting on him. They tell each other most everything, so if a dude did try to hit on him, Jean would have found out one way or another. And he hasn't ever heard Eren talk about wanting anything to do with any guy. Usually with Eren, he talks about who he likes before he does anything about it. Though, when he does something tends to change. Sometimes he'll talk about the person a _long _time before he'll act, but other times he'll do something to day he develops the crush. That's just how he is, sort of spur of the moment or when it feels right for him. Sure as hell makes him difficult to predict.

And of course Jean has thought about kissing Eren before. How many times has he stared at Eren's lips and wondered what they'd feel like pressed against his own? Eren's lips go through stages, sometimes they're chapped and dry and sometimes they're smooth and plump. Jean doesn't have a preference between the two, he thinks Eren looks good with both. He bites his bottom lip a lot, too. Jean had never noticed before, but over the last three weeks, he'd begun to notice a lot more. Like the way Eren's hair is, how he smells, what he does when he sits. It's all very distracting and there are times when Jean gets absolutely nothing done because of something stupid. Not long ago he'd been studying at Eren's and Jean had noticed a hole in his shirt along the side, that stupid hole had distracted Jean more than it ever should have.

Eren's skin is just cause for distraction and it's not fair. His skin is always tanned, even during the winter when he's either covered up or inside, his complexion stays shaded. There's varying degrees of it, but he tans so quickly and easily and there's a lot of people jealous of him for it. Jean has seen Eren half-naked before, he knows the curves his hips and back by sight. He has seen the slope of Eren's shoulders and the lines of his stomach, he _knows _what Eren's skin is like. As for Jean, he burns. He'll tan a little after he burns, but mostly he just burns.

Which reminds him that he forgot his sunscreen.

"Damn."

He's sure Armin brought some, but he hates putting on sunscreen. Then again, the only thing Jean hates more is burning and looking like a lobster. They're supposed to have good weather everyday with only one or two days calling for a chance of rain. He wouldn't mind some rain, even a thunderstorm, he liked those. As long as it was only for a part of a day, otherwise it'd be annoying.

He's nervous for a lot of things, this bus ride for one. It's hard sitting next to Eren like this for son long, but he wants to say he's doing okay so far. It's going to be difficult sharing a room with him, too. And that really sucks because he has shared so much stuff with Eren over the years. A room, food, clothes, it never used to matter. He wishes he could go back to that, when everything was easy and made sense. Now everything is topsy turvy and Jean can't get his shit straight.

He's excited for the beach, but terrified that he won't be able to look at Eren without flushing when he comes out in a swimsuit. He's going to stare, he knows it. He saw Eren changing in gym class and that was bad enough! He'd had to hide in the fucking bathroom until Eren finished. The actual gym class itself had been fun, he and Eren were always partners and made the mistake of racing during the mile run. Jean's lips twitch up into a smile, they'd been gagging by the end of it and could barely breathe. The teacher had nearly sent them to the clinic when Eren had dry heaved.

Good times.

Before long, Eren is tapping on his thigh and it has him raising his head from where he'd been leaning it against the window.

"Better?"

Jean nods. "Much."

"Good! Oh, I brought something!" Eren reaches over – right between Jean's fucking legs – and pulls out a paper from his bag. "I printed this off for us to look at."

He spreads it against their thighs and Jean grabs onto the corner to keep it from slipping or flying away because of the wind. It's a map of the area they're going to be in with the amusement park included. The print is kind of small, but it's still readable and there's some marks on it as well as some notes scribbled out in Eren's terrible scrawl. It's a running joke that Eren would make a good doctor because nothing he writes is legible.

"I see you've circled most of the food places."

"Always good to know where those are." Eren points to a building outside the park. "And this is our hotel. The website said it's a five minute walk to the park and less than that to get to the beach."

"What about the shopping center?"

Eren doesn't need to point to it since it's obvious where it is, but he points anyway. "Around ten, I think. And you can get to it from the beach," he points to a dark area separating the beach from the shopping center, "there's a bridge here that connects them."

"That's awesome! And the park looks huge! We should ride everything at least once."

"Absolutely. You'd look so cute on the carousel." Jean laughs and elbows him, hoping to god his face doesn't get too red. "I'd find you the prettiest pony!"

They get into a skirmish over that and Jean blames his flushed cheeks on the battering of their hands and kicking of their feet. When they settle, they pour over the map some more and he can honestly say he's excited. He _has_ been ever since he signed up, but looking at the map and getting to physically see all that's going to be offered when they get there, it has renewed his excitement. The whole having a massive crush on his best friend thing had put a damper on most... everything, but, god, to be able to go to the beach! That's going to be so much fun! He hasn't ever build a sandcastle or done that body surfing thing he has heard so much about. It may be both a blessing and a curse to have Eren with him, but given an actual choice, he wouldn't have it any other way.

He closes the window when the person behind him asks him to, but he doesn't get all sweaty and nasty again. He's pretty calm now, actually, more at ease than he should be when he's literally trapped between Eren and a wall. Eren brings out his iPod after awhile because he wants Jean to listen to a new song he found, so they share the headphones and Eren cranks it up. They listen to music for awhile, bobbing their heads and softly singing along to songs they both enjoy, like their favorite bands. This is something they do often, share headphones – share everything, really – and if felt good doing something familiar.

Eren is always so warm, so much warmer than anyone else as far as Jean can tell. There's just something so inviting about him and the energy around him, it attracts people. It attracted Jean, that's for sure, in an innocent way at first and now in a... less than innocent way. He shouldn't be thinking about this right now when they're sitting so close their arms are brushing, he doesn't want to have an unfortunate problem in his pants. It wouldn't be the first time Eren has gotten him hard without doing a goddamn thing, but Jean doesn't want to be stuck on a bus when his dick decides to stand at attention, he won't live through the mortification.

Maybe an hour later, the bus is pulling into a rest stop and Eren turns off the iPod.

"This is probably the last break we'll get until the middle of the night or something."

"I bet they play a movie when we get back on," Jean replies.

"I gotta pee anyway."

"I just wanna stretch my legs."

"Hey, I noticed you didn't bring much to drink, want me to pick up something inside?"

Jean debates with a few tilts of his head. "Nah, should be fine. Worse comes to worse I can always steal something from you."

Eren sticks out his tongue as the bus comes to a stop and the people more toward the front begin to get off shortly after that. After a few minutes, they've all piled off the bus and it feels good to walk around and stretch his legs in the fresh air. The sun feels good – though it reminds him again that he doesn't have any sunblock – and Eren goes inside with a group to use the restroom. The bathroom is a dangerous place for Jean, the locker room at school had been bad enough, he has learned his lesson. He's always trying to sneak a peak at more of Eren and he has a staring problem. He can't help it! He likes to look! He got caught staring once and when asked why, he'd apologized and said he'd been zoning out. He'd barely gotten out of there before Eren could see his face turn bright red, _that _one he couldn't explain away at all.

He wanders around aimlessly around the bus and kicks his legs out from time to time because Eren is probably right, the next time they get on the bus, they'll be on for a lot longer. Most of the night, probably. He starts mentally preparing himself as well, he doesn't well with sleeping when Eren is around. He used to be able to sleep soundly, better than on his own even, but ever since he realized he's frighteningly gay for his best friend, sleeping has been an... issue, to put it mildly.

He'll wake up in cold sweats sometimes, other times he'll have wet dreams, still more times he'll wake up so hard he aches with Eren's name on his lips. This is something he has been having anxiety over ever since they started happening because if Eren ever finds out due to Jean moaning his name in his sleep, that will be problematic. Jean can't control what he dreams about or if he dreams at all, though he wishes there was some way he could guarantee he won't make a fool of himself. It's not uncommon for guys to wake up with morning wood, so at least his erection, if he has one, will be easy to explain so long as he doesn't say something he shouldn't.

He stretches his arms above his head as he walks and arches his back, glancing at the building when Erwin and Levi emerge. They're side by side and talking lowly, Levi looking about as bemused as he always does. Why those two teachers in particular signed up to be chaperones, Jean doesn't know. He and Eren speculate that Levi lost a bet and Erwin forced him to join, but it's hard to say for sure.

People start loading back onto the bus, but Jean waits for Eren, he wants to stay out in the open as long as he possibly can. When he walks back around in view of the building, he sees Eren standing with a small group of their class and what are they doing? There must be music or something playing around there, maybe from speakers overhead, some of those buildings have that, and... yeah, they're dancing. Not quite _dancing_, but moving a little in place, enough for it to be considered a form of dancing.

No, god, please, fuck no! No dancing! Anything but that! Eren has a terrible habit of lifting up his shirt when he dances! Jean doesn't know where he learned that or why he has to do it, but every time he dances, he'll play with the hem of his shirt and pull it up a little bit. Most people probably don't even notice such a small thing, but Jean does. His eyes are glued to his friend, at the way his hips are swaying slightly, and _fuck_, there it is, the little shirt lift. Jean knew it was coming, but even that doesn't prepare him for it.

That one little strip of skin is enough to make Jean's face light up and he has to look away and force himself to walk. He should have looked away sooner! But no, he had to watch, he had to see, and now he can't get the image out of his head. Eren's a good dancer where Jean is a terrible one, but one of the things about Eren is that he has no idea how sexy he is. Or rather, how sexy Jean finds him. That single teasing show of skin has Jean's mouth dry and he'd even seen a short glimpse of Eren's happy trail that leads down to – no!

No, no, no! He can't be thinking about this! It won't lead to anything good for him, only more problems. Running a hand through his hair, he scratches at his scalp and he knows it's messing up his hair, but frankly, he has bigger problems. He walks all the way around the bus again very slowly, using everything he can to clear his head. He goes through everything he brought with him, ticking each thing off on a finger as he lists, and that helps some. Any distractions help, he has learned. Counting things, talking to someone, reading something, going on walks, running, he's willing to try anything. He can't count how many hours of sleep he has lost because he can't shut his mind down, so a lot of times he has to resort to utterly exhausting himself during the day so that when his head hits the pillow, he's out like a light.

Really, he's hoping all the activities they'll be doing will make him good and tired. He has found out through trial and error that he dreams less if he's tired enough, a lot of times won't even dream at all, and that's what he needs for this trip. He has thought a lot about using sleep aids, simple harmless ones that won't effect him the next day or leave him groggy in the morning. He tried Alka Seltzer once, the tablet form that dissolves in water, but it had been so fucking disgusting he'd vomited it up right afterward. Needless to say, he has been leery of trying any others since then.

At times he thinks he freaks himself out too much and creates problems that aren't actually there. Like how some people will watch a scary movie and afterward will see shadows or movements that don't exist when they look. To Jean's knowledge, he has never had a problem with anxiety before, but there have been times he has felt close to having an anxiety attack if he lets himself think too much. That sounds ridiculous, he knows, but he can't help how he feels and the sensations are so _real _when they happen that he can't discount them as nothing.

"Yo, Jean!" He turns to the sound of Eren's voice, his heart doing that annoying lurching thing in his chest. "We're boarding, c'mon!"

Jean trots over and climbs the stairs behind Eren. "Sorry, was sorta spacing out."

"I could tell, looked like you were gonna start drooling."

Eren retakes his seat by the window and Jean's honestly relieved to have the aisle seat back, it's a quicker journey to the bathroom if he needs it. It takes awhile to get everyone back on because of some stragglers in the bathroom taking their time, but then they're on their way again. Jean pulls his hoodie tighter around himself and leans back in his seat, settling in for the long haul. The TV has flickered on and most everyone is quieter now, waiting to see what's going to start playing. A movie will be good, it'll be nice and distracting for him, hopefully.

Because it's a school function, they can't watch any _good_ movies of the slasher variety, so the movie that plays is some safe comedy he has never heard of. It's relatively funny and keeps his interest enough that his mind doesn't wander to places it shouldn't. Eren eats the rest of the Cheetos and they share a bag of Chex Mix throughout the movie. Thankfully, the second movie that plays is a lot more interesting than the first one. It's not a comedy, more a thriller where the main character is trying to solve a series of murders. There's funny parts, parts that make him startle in his seat, and he and Eren keep guessing who the murderer is.

Jean isn't a huge fan of movies that make him think too much, but these types of movies are fun. They can be, anyway, so long as he's in the right company – which he is if he's with Eren. They have movie nights of their own and they usually consist of really terrible horror films, but those nights are so much fun. Staying up late eating popcorn, sometimes throwing the kernels at one another, trying to pick out the killer, and going over and above on sugar content with soda and candy. Or pulling all nighters because they're playing video games, that's another one of Jean's favorites. Anything he does with Eren he has always enjoyed, even if they get into fights or bicker from time to time, it all works itself out pretty quick.

They're both wrong about who the killer is in the movie, but Armin has a shit eating smirk on his face, he probably knew all along. The TV shuts off and the bus goes dark, everyone quiet except for the few whispers here and there. The lights are nearly all off besides the ones in the aisle so people know where it is if they need it and a lot of people are settling down to sleep. It's dark outside and probably pretty late, but Jean doesn't look at the time, he's a little nervous it'll mess him up if he finds out they're not even halfway yet – he's fairly certain they aren't and it makes his gut squirm uncomfortably.

Out of respect, he and Eren are quiet and Eren puts in his headphones while he stares out the window. There's not much to see, but he's in his own zone and Jean leaves him be. He puts his own headphones in and listens to loud music to drown out his thoughts until he starts yawning so much it makes his eyes water. He tries to hide it behind his hand, but his yawns get so big and long that his jaw starts to hurt.

He pauses his music when he feels a tug on his hoodie sleeve. "Yeah?"

"You tired?"

"Kinda."

"Oh, please, all your yawning is making me yawn!"

"Shh, keep it down! You'll wake someone," Jean whispers and turns off his iPod to put it away. "I don't think I'll last much longer."

Eren leans in a little closer, replying softly, "I know I won't, I slept like shit last night."

"Neighbor's dog still giving you problems?"

"Yeah! Little yappy fucker keeps barking at its shadow!"

"Who knew you'd be defeated by a Pomeranian? You! The mighty Jaeger! Losing sleep over a poor, defenseless ball of fur."

"I would punch you if I could, I want you to know that. In fact, remind me that I owe you a punch tomorrow for being an ass." His glare is halfhearted and his mouth is curved into the hint of smile before it disappears as he says, "For real though, that dog is a problem. Who keeps such a small dog outside at night? Aren't they worried about someone stealing it or another animal coming by and killing it?"

"Or the neighbor boy _accidentally _releasing it?"

Eren elbows him for that one. "Oh, sure, _you _can joke. Not like you have to deal with it."

No, Jean has to deal with something far worse, but he's not going to be saying that, of course.

"Have you tried talking to them?"

"Yeah, but they keep saying the same thing! They've convinced themselves that their mutt perfect and doesn't make a sound. That's what they claim, anyway, but I think they're both death. Or use earplugs at night so they literally can't hear anything. It wouldn't surprise me if the wife did that, I think her husband snores like a blow horn at night."

Jean hides his smile behind his hand and uses it to muffle his laugh. "You sound like such a stalker!"

"One of these nights we should sneak over and see if we can bribe the puffball to be quiet with food."

"That one always seems to work with you, I don't see why it wouldn't work with a dog."

"Two hits!" Eren elbows him again, mouth in such an attractive crooked smile that has Jean swooning. "You're in for two tomorrow, jerk!"

Jean makes a show of shrugging and laughs softly until it turns into another yawn. It gets passed right along to Eren, who yawns as well, and he rubs an eye with the back of his hand in such a way that it's _cute_. Never before in Jean's short life has he ever thought something like that as cute, but Eren makes it so. He has a little pout on his face as he rubs and when he stops, his eyes are lidded and drooping.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night. Your pillow is down below, isn't it?"

Jean's brows scrunch, but then he cusses, "Fuck! Yeah, I kept it with my bag. I wasn't even thinking about it, only that I had the food."

"No worries, that's what these things are for," Eren replies, patting his shoulder. "I've got my pillow, so you can use me as yours. It's better than trying to sleep upright in your seat, you'll just be bitching about neck and back problems tomorrow."

"Okay," is out of his mouth before he can think about it properly and right after, he's damning himself for his own stupidity. Eren nods and pulls his pillow out from under his seat and presses it up against the window. He curls himself up and Jean panics a little, but tries not to show it. "G-gonna," he clears his throat, "gonna use the restroom first."

He stands up and carefully walks back to the small door even though he doesn't have to pee. He shuts himself in and puts his back to the door, then breathes in slowly through his nose, holds it, then lets it out through his mouth just as slowly. It doesn't smell the best, but he doesn't care as he does his breathing exercise a couple more times until his heart stops thundering so loud in his throat and ears. Once he has better control over himself, he opens his eyes and goes to the sink where he washes his hands and splashes some water onto his face. It feels good, one of those refreshing things, and it better prepares him for when he leaves and returns to his seat.

It's not weird – he tells himself again and again – a lot of people are doing it. It's just a shoulder, it's just a bus ride, this is just his friend, that's _it_. Eren's eyes are already closed, but he isn't sleeping, that much Jean knows right away. Eren frowns a little more when he sleeps, which is odd, but Jean dreads the day he ever finds out what his own sleeping face looks like, if that day ever comes. Just to give himself another little thing to do, he messes with his bag, tucking it away and making sure nothing will fall out if he accidentally kicks it.

With nothing else to distract himself with, Jean scoots over and gently leans in until his cheek touches the material of Eren's shirt. He feels his face get hot and he's grateful for the darkness to cover it up. Once again he's struck by how warm Eren is and it makes him almost too heated for his hoodie, though he doesn't dare take it off. Eren wriggles into a more accommodating position, giving Jean more room, and he really hopes Eren can't feel how fast his heart is beating. This close, he can smell Eren and he has to really hold himself back not to just turn his head and take a deep breath.

This is the best and worst thing that could happen to him right now and he likes it as much as he doesn't. He's full of contradictions and it feels wrong to enjoy being half-pressed up against Eren like this. Wrong, but so _right_. And thanks to Eren's warmth and the gentle rocking of the bus, Jean starts to doze, the feel of Eren taking each slumbrous breath lulling him to sleep.

**To Be Continued**


End file.
